Eyes On Fire
by Araceli L
Summary: A growing passion haunts and torments Zelda as she tries to forget the man who swept her off her feet. Meanwhile, a shunned and rejected Link is trying to cope with his mistakes as the Smashers prepare for a new tournament. Though I don't want to classify it as such, I suppose I should: Zelda/Snake. There. You better be interested now. Shoulda trusted me anyway. I shipped for you!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: And so! with two crashy weak computers, no spellcheck, no dinner, an argument with my parents and 5+ hours of work, I FINALLY got around to writing! This will be a two/three part fic, from the looks of it. I have the rest planned out, and I just have to continue writing. I'm very excited to be back, especially with a couple so very different. I'm glad everyone reading this is giving it a try! (Oh, and P.S. - sorry for the cheesy breaks. Only way to keep formatting.)**

My love for him was so misplaced; it was so wrong, it was so insatiable, I felt it burning inside my body with every step, tingling inside my fingertips like magic, a horrible ecstatic fire, a delicious pain...

And it made me feel _so _damn alive.

My fingers clenched my skin as a thwarted memory washed over me. Heaving a sigh, I let it sink through me, seeming to catch on my heart and anchor it in the sea of emotions, the brutal, crushing pain of the rejecting waves, the sting of the saltiness in the sea foam...

"Zelda...Zelda..."

Gasping, I quickly released the tension in my hands before opening my eyes. And lo and behold, did I see quite the sight.

Samus Aran was standing over me, hair tickling my nose as she scrunched hers. "Wake up, sleepy," she chimed prettily, sounding quite merrier than usual, which I mentioned to her as I stretched and wrenched myself from the loveseat.

"Well, you know," she said in that quiet, calm voice of hers, "I didn't think I would actually enjoy something like this, but I've decided to keep an open mind."

She chatted on as I followed her through the room, my mind wrestling with my heart to understand her words. When she turned to rifle through a closet, I lifted the hem of my dress. With a sinking suspicion, I ran my fingers across the smooth skin until I came across a ripped nick that came from a pinch. Sighing, I checked to see if my knuckles were still white. _Not again._

This was getting absolutely absurd.

"...don't you think so? Zelda?" I whipped my head up just to catch her slightly amused, slightly frustrated eyeroll. "Pay attention for a second, doll. Come on, I depend on you to explain to me the strange and terrifying world of fashion!"

I smiled slyly at her, the last remnants of fatigue fleeing my mind. "Coming from the fearless bounty hunter, to the medieval princess?"

Sticking out her tongue, Samus' embarrassment seemed to fade. "So is this dress pretty? Do you think it's appropriate?"

Leaning against the wall, staring at her in mock exasperation, I said, "Samus, you're the kind of woman who could wear a burlap sack and make it look beautiful."

She looked at me in bemusement. "And...that doesn't answer my question."

Breaking into giggles, I grabbed her hand and led her through the closet, my silent torment nothing now but a glimmering pool from which I had emerged.

~Araceli L~

I wasn't the one who started this.

His eyes, burning eyes, staring at me from across the room, biting into me until the breath left my lungs.

Those eyes, eyes on fire, eyes the color of dull embers, of sparks ready to jump...those eyes stopped me on the spot, put me on a pedestal, caught me in a trance...

And then, in the next second, I was back to being myself. His eyes were surveying other things, shrewd and calculating...

_Turn them back on me. Look over here again. _

Feeling the breath flooding back into my lungs, I looked around nervously, bewildered and slightly shaken at the thoughts flying through my head. I tucked a few stray hairs behind my pointed ears, as if this would soothe me.

Instead, it was a gentle touch on my arm by my companion.

I know that when I met his eyes, my wild and worried expression didn't escape his attention, regardless of how fast I composed myself.

"Are you alright, Princess?" His voice was politely concerned, with a special care to not cross any boundaries. Maybe he thought I couldn't tell, but I think he knew I knew.

Struggling to free my mind from all these entangling thoughts, I nodded, trying my best to look dignified. "Yes, yes, thanks for asking. I'm just fine. Let's continue on."

I saw a brief flash of distrust in his blue eyes. He saw that I saw, and hid it quickly by brushing his ash blond bangs from his forehead.

And then we both went on, pretending neither of us knew the innermost secrets and emotions of the other.

~Araceli L~

The wind blew softly onto my skin, drawing its wispy fingers along my hair, pulling it into the air as if it wanted me to come and play, lingering at the tips like a final plea.

"Zelda?" That same polite, quiet voice raised me out of my meditations. I glanced up, and met those same honest blue eyes.

"Link..." I murmured softly, my heart racing. "You're here. What are you doing here?"

He stopped in front of me, his hair and face shining like the sun setting in front of us. I don't know whether it was excitement, nervousness, or courage, but he put the sun to shame.

He was wringing his hands, and between his white knuckles I saw glimpses of gold. Biting his lip, he would look at me briefly, then back up, then open his mouth to speak, then close it with a frustrated sigh.

I stood, dress billowing around me in the wind, hair nearly obscuring my face. I walked to him, smiling slightly, and put a finger to his gnawed lips.

"You don't have to find the right words. Whatever you say will be right." And I felt that this was true, and believed it with all my pounding heart.

He looked up from underneath his eyelashes, seemingly suddenly calm. He raised his chin, and met my eyes bravely, as though having reached a decision. I awaited earnestly.

He searched my face, and then, as though finding what he was looking for, he lunged forward and, wrapping his arms tight around me, kissed me deeply.

"Link," I sighed, my lips still between his, "you know this isn't right..."

He nodded, pressing his forehead into mine. "Yes. But I might as well have you while I can," he said huskily, pressing into another kiss before I could protest.

And though I could feel the guilt, all the shame and morals bubbling up into my throat, I swallowed them down and allowed myself to melt into him.

~Araceli L~

Samus twirled in her robin's-egg blue ball gown, the light catching it attractively as her green eyes gleamed.

"Zelda, you did great! Thank you!" She completed another spin, her smile seeming to widen with every step.

I grinned, satisfied with the look of joy on her face. "Of course. I would never not help you." She returned my look, then caught my eyes in the mirror.

"When are you getting dressed?" she asked casually, pushing her hair this way and that.

I fell down onto my bed, rather ungracefully, and sighed. She knew exactly what she was doing. "You know I'm not going. I've had enough of balls to last me the rest of my life. Especially masquerades."

Samus' mouth curled into a pout.

"And," I continued, smirking slightly at ignoring her, "they are ever so overrated. Everyone speaks of romance and the thrill of the mystery of the mask, but really, it's not much different than the masks humans wear everyday. And it will be obvious how is behind the mask!" I exclaimed, sitting up and pounding my fists on the bed. It squeaked in protest.

"Oh Zelda," Samus turned to me with an annoyed expression on her features, "aren't I supposed to be the one who hates dressing up in any shape or form?"

I gave a reluctant smile. "So?"

She didn't budge. "So, it's not about the 'mystery', as you think. Yes, it's cliche, slightly silly and overrated, but I think it's supposed to be about having fun."

"And you know how to have fun?" As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I felt the sarcastic sting they carried. Still, even as Samus glanced at me with a bit of a hurt look, I kept my chin high, avoiding eye contact.

"Well - I mean, I just thought..." Samus trailed off, and I broke my haughtiness to look at her. Instantly regret at her crestfallen embarrassment flooded through me.

"Oh, Samus," I said, standing up. I went to her and took her hand. "I'm sorry. I suppose I'm just a little...there's a lot on my mind."

"Yeah, I noticed," she answered, slightly dryly. I looked away in shame, and she squeezed my hand.

"Come on. Come with me. Allow yourself one cheesy, cliche night of fun."

~Araceli L~

His eyes, burning me. Burning me.

And I loved the pain.

Why was I sitting here, my eyes skimming over pages I wasn't reading? Why did my eyes keep jumping upward, only to crouch back down with a flush? Why was I so afraid? Why was-

"Excuse me." A gruff voice, sharp and deep, cut through my cloud of confusion, and instantly I stopped dead.

And I met his eyes.

Amber eyes, alive with fire. Jumping coals, twirling sparks flitted about, burning those who got too close, their lives extinguished in a furious burst. His eyes, so dangerous, so barred, so tempting...

All these thoughts rushed through me in a split second, and my natural instincts whipped me back to reality. Raising my chin, and meeting his gaze politely yet slightly haughtily, I nodded. "Yes?"

"Could you stop staring at me? Making it rather hard to concentrate," he said blatantly, halting me in my tracks, blood rushing to my cheeks like a volcano. I opened my mouth to stammer, then shut it, then looked down ashamedly.

Then I heard a rough chuckle issuing from his throat, and I peeked up curiously to see if he was teasing. Indeed, he had a taunting, kind of snarky smile on his face, and when I met his eyes quickly, he opened his mouth and laughed.

And his whole face seemed to open, and his eyes didn't seem so cold. It wasn't a loud, long, or full-fledged laugh, but it trickled through me like a brook, the sound filling me.

As his laughter faded, he took the chair next to me. "Ah," he said, still chuckling, "I'm just playing, kid. But am I really that interesting?"

I bit my lip, feeling my whole body stiffen as he looked at me. I glanced up from under my eyelashes and attempted to regain some of my dignity.

"I don't usually see such modern humans," I said loftily, turning my attention back to my book.

"Hmmph," he mused, still studying me curiously. "And why's that?"

"Because I'm the princess of kingdom from the past," I snapped. "Now, if you don't mind, _sir_, I'd like to get back to my reading."

"Didn't seem like you were paying much attention in the first place."

I glared at him, only to see a boyish smirk that irritated me so. "Was too," was all I could think to say. I felt my heart begin to pound excitedly as he raised his eyebrows sarcastically.

"Then what's the title of that book?"

I gaped at him, then finally felt my walls drop. I tossed the book aside in defeat. "You win. What do you want?" It sounded frustrated, but if he was as intuitive as he seemed, he would hear the hint of playfulness.

"I was just curious as to why you were observing me like you were. Most people have ignored me here." He turned his gaze down the aisle in front of him, and ruffled his short brown hair thoughtfully. I watched as he sighed. "Most people not friendly here?"

I shrugged, then instantly berated myself for the graceless action. "It depends, I suppose. Most seemed to think you were not the talking type."

His lips curled into an accepting smile. "Usually, I'm not. Wait, people were talking about me?"

"We love to judge the newcomers," I said mockingly, having been a victim of hypocrisy myself.

He seemed to catch my sarcasm, and laughed coldly. "Doesn't everybody?" And then he turned his eyes on me.

I wasn't ready for the deepest anger I saw burning there, the distrust and pain there. And he let it be. He didn't conceal it. He let his eyes smolder into mine.

I nodded, trying to fix myself from his gaze, but I felt them hypnotizing me even as I looked away. "I don't," I stated defiantly, feeling that even if it wasn't true, I attempted.

His eyes were still burning me. "I can tell."

Surprised, I allowed myself to feel the fire. "How?" I blurted out. I shut my eyes in embarrassment, then blinked them open, only to find his burning even more intently than before.

"You're not like everyone else."

I smiled slowly, then threw myself into that fathomless fire.

**A/n: I literally had so many problems trying to upload this fic. I texted Messenger of Dreams in a frantic stress, probably freaking him out, but at least it finally went up! Please remember to review, because I've been doing this since I was thirteen now. I'm an oldie. I DESERVE REVIEWS**

***cough* Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed!**

**~Araceli L**


	2. Chapter 2

"There," Samus said gently, as though speaking louder would break me apart like a house of cards.

I tried to give her a look of resignation, but instead I broke into a wide grin. "You made me pretty, Samus," I said teasingly, allowing my sincerity to show underneath. She grinned back, sticking out her tongue.

I was clothed in slim red dress, a tight, laced bodice being the accenting detail. It sucked in my waist and followed the curve of my back. The skirt was long and wavy, and seemingly light as air. Fine gossamar strands seemed to float around me as I turned gently, giving the illusion of walking on water. The tight corset pushed up my breasts until they looked round and smooth as eggs.

"Wow," I commented, noticing this 'minor' detail. "I look...sexy."

Samus nodded mischievously. "I know." I made eye contact with her, and she winked at me, flashing her bright green eyes, before they vanished as she spun around into the bathroom.

"I might a little too much attention, if you know what I mean," I said into the bathroom, wondering if I secretly liked the way my breasts bounced when I moved.

"I know exactly what you mean," Samus called over the running water, voice echoing slightly through the room. "And that's exactly what I intended."

I sighed in chagrin, but felt excitement bubbling up in my stomach. The feeling of a thousand tingles ran through my arms, leaving them feeling weak and fluttery. But it wasn't a bad weak, or a nervous flutter. It was anticipation.

I bit my lip, staring at the vanity covered in various makeup products, most of which were recognizable, despite being futuristic to me.

Well, I thought, resigned, I've gone this far. Might as well "go big or go home," as Captain Falcon tends to say.

Selecting a tube of matching red lip product, I sat at the stool and began to apply my own mask.

~Araceli L~

Chewing on my lip, I stared at the list before me, ignoring the pain in my mouth.

Zelda vs. Snake, the list read. 9:00, training room 217.

I was used to having scrimmage matches for practice with randomly selected partners, even when they were Smashers I didn't particularly know or like. But I had had yet to run into him.

The man with the eyes on fire.

After our little talk in the library, nothing had changed by much, at least from an outsider's perspective. But I could feel when his eyes were burning into me. I could hear his gruff chuckle across the room, the low waves of his voice. We somehow always ended up in the same rooms together, never actually speaking, but my gaze always ended up on him, and the chills running over my body seemed to indicate it was mutual. The few times he caught me looking, eyes wide and amazed like a little girl's, he would simply break into a small, rough smile, so very small and hidden but so very genuine, rare as a gemstone. And the few times I looked up to meet his gaze, I would smile back quickly before looking away again, blush unfolding my heart on my face.  
And now, this would be the first time we would be face to face, alone, like we had been in the library.

I felt the heat rise to my face already, turning even more red when I realized I was blushing at the mere thought of being close to him again.

Covering my tell-tale face, I headed back to my room, begging myself to return to normal.

But once there, I found all I could do was wait for nine o'clock, heartbeat counting down the minutes.

- - - ... ... ... ... ... ...

I was in the training room ten minutes early, readying myself for combat. I wanted to give him a fight he would remember, especially regarding his track record. I wanted to prove to him, in more ways than one, that I could hold my own.

Competitiveness ran in my veins, defiance in my eyes, and power in my body. I was dressed as Sheik, body wrapped in a tight bodysuit for total flexibility, but I removed my cowl and hood, allowing my long hair to pool around my shoulders and chest. Sitting on the smooth marble platform, I braided my hair with expert fingers and studied the training room.

The entire room was pure, clean white, with nothing inside but a large but modern machine in one corner. It was wide but very slim, consisting of ever-scrolling lines of text and holograms. Screens projected numbers and stats and predictions and bets, all things of little concern to me, and had a small list always available for stages. The platform I was sitting on, legs trembling, was blank except for two glowing circles at each end, wispy beams of light swimming up every now and then. The room was large, impeccably clean, and felt way too empty.

I waited impatiently, watching as the clock struck nine. We were the last session of the night, so it hardly mattered if he was late, but to me the minutes felt like hours in which I could break apart from sheer nerves.

What was I so nervous of?

Playing with some needles near my thigh, I knew exactly what I was nervous of.

Awkwardness. I was scared of being awkward.

I sighed. I was overthinking this way too much. He was a man, a man I was supposed to beat the living daylights out of. Competition, competition. I needed to focus on that.

Surprisingly, it worked. I began to think of all different sorts of tactics, allowing my Sheikah mind to take over and settle my body into a peaceful, meditative state.

"You ready?" a voice said into my ear, quiet but eager. I hadn't even heard him come in.

I peered underneath one eyelid, checking the clock. It had only been a minute.

"Eternally so," I said calmly, then opened both my eyes, knowing now they were blood-red.

He was close to me, but not so close as to where I could read shock, if he showed any, at the color of my eyes. He simply nodded, but his eyelids moved too much for him to be as aloof as his face presented.

"Where do you wanna go?" he asked from across the room, stretching his arms. I watched him easily, loving the surge of confidence running through my body.

"I'm thinking Eldin Bridge," I told him, following the lines of his muscles across his shoulders and into his arms. The wiry skin bulged underneath his shirt, back nothing but pure power as he turned away from me, pressing the hologram to select the location. I pulled my legs up onto the platform and walked carefully, feet padding gently along the white stone, to the far circle.  
He turned back around, walked to the platform, gait strong and relaxed. Despite his steadiness, I could sense an anticipation had been bulding in him too.

He stepped effortlessly up onto the platform and into the remaining circle. As the circles recognized our occupation, light beginning to shine almost painfully brightly, he finally met my eyes.

"Give me a fight," he said, his smirk teasing, but his face showed a challenge.

I grinned back at him. "I plan on it."

He grinned.

Next thing we knew, there was the bridge below us, sun riding low in the sky, casting our shadows over the length and into the abyss below. I bounced lightly on my padded feet, staring into him as he cracked his knuckles.

I knew he was staring back. I could feel them, hotter than the sun behind us, on me, but I was determined to prove a simple smoulder wasn't enough to break me.

At the sound of the buzzer, we charged toward each other, break-neck pace. I positively flew over the ground, feet barely skimming the stones as I ran to get the first hit. In front of me, I saw he was just as determined as I was.  
Then we were only a few feet apart, then only inches.

Instantly I ducked to avoid his opening blow, coming up on his side to deliver a swift punch to the gut. He grunted, but wasn't distracted, and quickly caught my wrist as it was retracting, flipping me underneath it. I winced as my arm bent at the awkward angle, and slipped a few needles into my palm, wasting no time in shoving them toward his thigh. He saw, though, and planted a kick on my lower back, shoving me away from him.

I stumbled but snapped back around to face him, eyes narrowing...

He grinned at me, impishly, taunting me on.

We fought hand to hand, fists flying and punches landing to force the other into submission. We seemed to dance in the long sunlight, shifting here and there, bodies shaking, exhilarated, determined. He lifted me easily as a rag-doll, earning me quite a few skids and burns, but my flexibility and agility returned to him quite a lot of bruises.

He wasn't easy on me. He twisted me around, threw me, hit me, seemingly to test my limits. A flash of concern would occasionally show up, so very briefly in his ember eyes when I fell, then disappear behind a wall of indifference. But I poured out all my strength on him. I saw him wearying, and went harder than even a tournament winning match. All my determination channelled into every hit, every blow, finding his weak points like a war strategist.

We continued our dance, eyes darting up and down each other's bodies hungrily, hunting for defenseless areas, any advantage we could. Each punch or kick brought us closer, a hair's breadth away, then we spun away to try again. But we were both growing weak, and it seemed as though neither of us could best the other.

Finally, I threw a punch half-heartedly, which he absorbed easily with crossed wrists. But he didn't spin away, and neither did I. We stood staring at each other underneath our locked arms, breaths coming in hot, heavy pants. The last remnants of sunlight streamed in between our heaving bodies, and my arms trembled in exhaustion.

His rough, handsome faced showcased his tiredness, but his eyes were bright, burning, alive. He looked merely satisfied, but his eyes once again betrayed him: they were enthralled.

Slowly, I drew myself up from my slight lunge and pulled away my arm. He did the same, eyes watching me with every slow movement.

"It seems as though we draw," I said carefully, watching his eyes to see what he thought.

And that rare grin burst through again, boyish and innocent, lighting up his face. I watched with a mixture of awe and confusion, until his lips moved.

"Maybe," was the only word that escaped his lips before he hurled his full body weight at me, tackling me to the ground. I barely had time to spit out "what the hell" before I was on my back, head thunking into the ground. I floundered for a second, trying to get up, only to be stopped by his legs crossing over mine, and in the next second, my arms were splayed wide, pinned by his vice-like grip, completely defenseless.

"And maybe," he said, breathing heavily, chuckling heartily, "I win."

I struggled for a few seconds, each time held back easily by his immense strength. Finally, I scowled, but couldn't deny that my exhaustion was slowly wearing away, replaced by another feeling, stronger, that I couldn't identify.

"Not fair," I said childishly, but I couldn't stop the smile that ran over my lips as he looked at me.

"Is too," he replied just as childishly, smiling wider, readjusting his grip on me. Suddenly, he was pinning my hands down with his, his rough fingers over mine like a cage. I instantly became intensely aware of my vulnerable position, and the heaving of my breasts as my breaths came short.

"I think I won, your majesty," he said teasingly, voice quieting as he lowered his head to mine. "Or do you demand a rematch?"

I couldn't focus on anything but those eyes. They came closer, looking me up and down like a tiger sizing up his prey, roaming over my body, my vulnerability freely, unashamedly. Suddenly I wondered if he had been waiting to get me alone.

I blushed at the thought, shook it away, then gazed back up at him.

This close, I could study his face in every perfect detail. He was handsome, for certain, but at this distance he looked like a demigod or fallen angel. His skin was smooth, lined with a few wrinkles of age, adding character to every part of his face. His eyes were worn, seemingly tired, but tough and adamant. His forehead was strong, wrapped by a bandana, but beads of sweat from our fight were still lingering there. A tough, clenched jaw, as though he was resisting something. Lips that looked soft, the gentlest part of his face.

And of course, those startling eyes.

I stared into them, body tensing with anticipation. I could feel the electricity flowing between us, between our barely separated bodies. I wanted desperately in that moment for him to touch me, to lean closer and press his lips to mine, to kill that remaining distance between us.

He looked tortured, and I wondered, with a jolt of energy, if he was thinking the same thing.

"Your eyes," he murmured, his voice low and reassuring, surging through my whole body like a shock, "they look like rubies."

I felt his arms quivering through my hands, on the sides of my chest.

Unthinkingly, I laced my fingers up and through his. My heart was going to burst.

He kept studying me, eyebrows clenched in worry.

Then, in one sudden movement, his mouth was on my open neck, warm, wet, hungry. My body exploded with sensations, tingling everywhere, shaking like a leaf. He kissed me eagerly, seemingly as though to get all of me he could. He roamed my neck, my jaw, taking me in, and responded with heavier kisses as he heard my moans. I had never wanted anything as badly as I wanted this, and I barely knew him...

Yet I knew him perfectly.

Then, abruptly, he pulled away, untangling himself from my hands and legs. He turned away, glanced at me with a horrified look on his face, then concealed it and sat a little ways away from me, legs over the edge of the bridge. I studied him for a second, barely believing what had just happened, then pushed myself up. Subconsciously I touched my hand to my neck to make sure his mouth had really been there.

He was breathing hard, jaw tight. Without saying anything, I sat beside him, following his gaze into the abyss.

The sun was gone, and the very first stars were beginning to show in the Hyrule sky.

Finally, he turned to me, looking disappointed.

"Zelda," he said quietly, barely audible. I gazed at him steadily, though my heart was hammering. I refused to let him know how badly I wanted him.

"I'm sorry," he said shamefully, but keeping my gaze. His eyes were full of restraint. "I should be able to control myself. That wasn't fair to you."

I looked questioningly at him, feeling like an open book. "You couldn't control yourself?" I repeated, trying to understand.

He looked away, his face wrought with shame. "No," he said simply, lifting his chin, but still looking away. After a few seconds, he turned back to me. "You are too beautiful."

The honesty in his amber eyes was overwhelming. I felt my heart skip a beat, and the blood rush to my cheeks.

He smiled faintly at that. "We barely know each other."

"I don't mind," I whispered, voice struggling not to break. He looked at me, surprised. "You intrigue me," I added, just as quietly.

"You intrigue me," he replied, leaning closer to me. "In fact," he said, taking my hand slowly, gently, as if asking for permission, "you tantalize me."

His thumb running tenderly along the back of my hand almost broke me seemed to be staring directly into me. "I want to know you," I murmured, waiting for his reaction with my nerves nearly shocking me.

He touched his forehead to mine, closing his eyes. Then he pulled away, dropping my hand. It felt limp and cold without his touch.

"Zelda...I'm far too old for you. I couldn't, wouldn't let you throw away the prime of your life for an old man, an old, broken soldier, one you barely know." He said these words to me, but it seemed as though he was trying to reassure himself.

I wanted to argue, but the shivers running up my spine when he looked at me made me hold my tongue. He seemed in so much pain, almost guilty, and I wanted nothing more than to hold him close, take the pain away.

But I couldn't.

He saw my hesitation. "I'm sorry," he repeated quietly.

I took his hand, and he glanced up into my eyes. There, I saw a spark fly. And when I smiled, I saw a fire kindling.

"I won," I said, grinning at him.

He smiled back.

A/N: So, This took me a LONG-ASS time to write. Long-ass. I hope the hard work is noticable and appreciated. That being said, it's also 12:37, so Merry Christmas from EST! I'm going to go pass out. Please review. It took me such a long time to write, and only a few minutes to review. I haven't had as much support as I used to nowadays, and support is always nice. I will always reply if you review! Thanks you!

-Araceli L


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: This one's a long one, folks. But I really really like it. I hope you do to! This story should be wrapping up in two or three more chapters. It went on longer than I thought! I get too attached to my characters.

~Araceli L~

"Zel?" Samus' voice broke into my fiery memories. "You ready?"

Blinking, my eyes refocused on my reflection in the mirror. I studied myself for a second, bright, smoky eyes, thick lashes fluttering, rouged cheeks and so much red lipstick it looked as though I'd bitten into somebody like a vampire. Doubt began to fill through me like a pitcher being poured.

"Yes...but are you sure about this Sam? I think it's a bit too much..."

"Nonsense," the bounty huntress said, coming to stand behind me in the mirror. Her sharp eyes surveyed my face. "You look so irresistable, Zel."

"I don't want to look irresistable!" I blurted out, confusion and frustration finally overflowing.

Samus looked bemused, but her calm voice stayed as steady as always. "I'm sorry, Zel, I didn't realize..."

I nodded quietly, refusing to look at myself after my little temper tantrum. Samus had done her best making me up, and my frustration didn't lie with her.  
It lay with the man with the eyes on fire, the man who did his best shut me out of his life.

"Zelda?" Her voice was tiny, careful. I looked into her eyes. "Tell me what's been going on. I know something's bothering you...you're always on a cloud, far away. What is it?"

Her eyes bore into me, pleading, curious. I didn't know how much she knew, but I knew she knew what went around the Mansion, the reason Snake tried so desperately to stay away from me...

"Everybody talks too much," I sighed, then began the long, melodramatic tale, the tale I felt so stupid to be wrapped up in.

~Araceli L~

The next time we met, it wasn't in the library or the training room. It was in the dining room, in front of everyone, and I refused to give to all the shocked and bewildered glances as I held my chin high and took a chair across from the brooding soldier.

"Hello, Snake." I wouldn't allow my voice to tremble, despite my slightly shaking hands. "May I sit with you?"

He had looked up with a look of mild curiosity on his face, a slight hint of shame peeking through. But after a quick scan around the room, he smiled slyly. "Of course, Princess."

I nodded curtly and sat down more quickly and less gracefully than I meant to, earning a few curses from the nagging, doubting voice inside my head. Head turned downward, I heard Snake's deep, quiet chuckle, as though enjoying the scene.

"People really expect everyone to stay within their little cliques, don't they?" His rough, handsome voice was darkly amused.

I turned up my chin, meeting those cynical eyes. For a second, just a second, I was caught off guard, as usual, but I looked right back at him. "Yes, unfortunately." Pointedly, I added, "People seem to have a hard time understanding diversity."

A few Smashers scowled at me, earning a hearty laugh from Snake. For a second, their glares cut me, but the mirth in his voice made me smile. It was then that I realized how far removed Snake was from the pressures of society, and the thought made me both admire and wonder him.

I let my mind explore the possible causes in his indifference, eyes roving over his small but genuine smile, the deep creases around his eyes, the abandon in his thrown back head.

He was very different, plain and simple. And I found that I couldn't keep analyzing him. All I could do was stare and admire.

Grin still on his features, his laughter died down and he turned back to me. "You've created quite a stir, Princess," he said, eyes dancing mischievously. I smiled at him. "Was that your intention in sitting here?"

I shook my head, hand finding its way around my braided locks. "No," I said coyly, or at least what I hoped was coyly, "I wanted to see you."

He looked up at me, face unchanged, but eyes betraying him again. They looked excited.

"You rushed away so fast last time, we didn't really get a chance to talk," I continued casually, heart jackhammering against my chest as I took a sip of water to steady myself. This was ridiculous, I thought, glass goblet shivering slightly in my betraying hands. I can talk to him without acting like a silly teenage girl. I've done worse than this.

But a lightning-quick flash of what had happened that day on the bridge made my head feel light as air.

Snake seemed much better than me, with a composed, politely-but-not-too-interested look on his face. "Oh?"

I nodded dumbly, feeling a slightly snubbed. "Yes." At his expression, or lack thereof, I felt indignation rising through me. Who was he to tease me like this, burning eyes or no? Who was he to kiss me like he wanted me as desperately as I wanted him? Who was he to act like nothing had happened, when I was trying to clear the air and make him feel unashamed?

The anger was layering on top of itself, each new fold increasing in strength.

"Or," I said haughtily, trying to mask my mortification, "I can leave you to yourself, if that's what you'd prefer."

"No!" he blurted out. I looked down at him, feeling a layer peel itself away.

"No," he said, readjusting himself, looking embarrassed. "Stay. I'd love to talk."

The honesty on his face softened me. "If you're sure," I said quietly.

He breathed deeply, eyes focusing away from me. "I'm sorry," he murmured. I gazed at him, wondering where this was going. Was I wrong to pursue this? Should I pretend it never happened and let it go?

But then he met my eyes, and knew, for however much I tried, I wouldn't get rid of the burn those eyes left on my soul.

"I don't know how to feel about all this, Princess...Zelda." I jolted, hearing him call me by my name. "I shouldn't be feeling what I do, I should be able to leave all this alone. But..."

His hands were on top of the table, connected and being wrung. He glanced at them, then sighed resentfully. "But I can't get you out of my damn head."

I felt the air flooding into my lungs as I breathed in relief. Everything felt so much more real, so much more alive. My heart picked up its pace, and I couldn't stop the grin breaking across my lips.

"I know how much you'd like to pretend it didn't happen," I began carefully, rejoicing in my head as I saw him open his mouth to protest. I interrupted him, "but I can't forget it either."

"I don't want to forget it," he said quickly, eyes pleading to me eagerly. "At all. I just...I have to, Zelda. It was wrong."

I raised an eyebrow at him, heart picking up again. I heard his words like a futile attempt at escaping, when I knew I already had him ensnared. And by the look he was giving me, he knew it too. "It was just a kiss," I reminded him, dropping my voice so the rest of the room couldn't hear it.

He seemed ashamed by remembering what had happened. "But, Zelda..."

"No," I said sternly. He was looking at me with resignation. "I want to know you better, despite what happened. Let me get to know you," I said, my tone lowering into what I thought sounded like desperation. And I hated it. "Let me be your friend."

"We can't just be friends, Zelda." Snake seemed slightly irritated, like he was having an argument with himself, but I refused to back down. I couldn't just leave these feelings so open and naked.

"Why not?" I challenged, mouth set tight. I gazed unflinchingly at him, daring him to come up with a good reason.

He gave me a look that seemed to say, _shut up, please_. I frowned at him, then realized we were getting even weirder glances.

His eyes were conflicted, tired. He gnawed on his lip for a second or two, then looked back to me. "Meet me outside."

Frustrated, I watched in vexation as he abruptly left, turning the corner toward the door without a glance back.

I set two fingers to my temple, gathered my dignity, and left with straight shoulders. There was no way I was letting him get away with this.

The wind outside was chilly, prompting goosebumps to rise on my skin. But I kept my composure, enjoying the feeling of the brisk breeze. It cleared my head some, it seemed, until I was able to focus on what I was doing.

I was fixing whatever it was that was going on between this damn moody soldier and I, whether that meant not talking to him ever again or maybe something worse than that. So be it, I thought, catching a glimpse of a small puff of smoke. Sure enough, there he was, leaning against the marble side of the Mansion all cool and collected, cigarette between his lips.

I made my way to him silently. He didn't look at me as I approached, and didn't stir when I simply leaned beside him, staring into the grey sky.

I glanced over at him, resolve forming in ever part of my body. I was ready for whatever he dished out, but I could use a little courage. His eyes didn't move from the sky, so I reached out and grabbed the cigarette between his fingers. Quickly, before I could think about what was in it, I put it to my mouth and inhaled deeply.

Sweet, smoky mint rolled over my tongue, down my throat. It swept around smoothly, and tasted much better than everyone was always telling me. But soon I felt my lungs reject the coolness of the smoke, and, refusing to ruin my image further, I breathed it out, enjoying the sensation of the wintery smoke much more than I should have.

"First time smoking?" Snake asked from my side, keeping as cool and collected as ever. But he took the cigarette from my lips gently, with a delicate touch, and when his fingers brushed my lip, I could feel them trembling.

I clamped down on the cigarette, though, evading his attempt at withdrawing it. I liked the smoke, and more so, I liked the courage it sent down my lungs.  
I took it in between my fingers and breathed out again.

Suddenly I felt the cigarette yanked out of my hand, and there was Snake, hands pressed against both sides of my head, leaning in toward me, breath coming in small puffs that smelled like the cigarette had tasted.

"Damn it, Zelda," he whispered, arms shaking, voice breaking. I couldn't do anything but stare up into his eyes, his intense, passionate eyes, brighter than ever when framed against the cloudy sky. I was trapped. "You are so - _fucking_ - stubborn."

And before I could protest, his lips were finally, finally on mine, and I felt the release I didn't even realize I had been waiting for. It heaved through my body, warming it, forcing my legs to quiver, my knees to go weak. But it went to my head as pure bliss wiped my mind, and he kissed me hungrily, as fiercely as he had that day on the bridge. I felt his tongue slip tantalizingly across my lips, and I responded blindly, falling into his arms as his hands roved across my body. His big, strong hands, clutching at the small of my back, grasping the bones of my hips, a finger or two straying further, than catching himself and coming back, to my neck, my shoulders, my waist. Everywhere he touched was like a wildfire racing across my nerves, sparking and firing almost painfully with their intensity. I wanted to be touched everywhere, I wanted his hands on every part of me, and, with a twinge of guilt but slight, jittery, nervous excitement, I realized how desperately I wanted his hand between my legs. How desperately I wanted him -

And then he pulled away, breathing heavily, eyes locked into mine as they fluttered open, and he seemed to gauge my reaction. As if he needed to check. I was in total rapture.

Blinking stupidly, I tried to unwrap my mind from the long ribbons of desire and ecstasy that tied it up, choked out my thoughts. But his eyes threw away any chance I had of straightening up.

His expression changed to one of slight, quiet triumph, then one of capitulation.  
"And that," he began, pausing to take a puff of the cigarette somehow still between his fingers, "is why we can't be friends."

"Because you're dangerously, furiously in love with me?" The words, playful but slightly hopeful, were out of my mouth before I could think of what they said.

He stared at me, a smirk twisting along the side of his handsome mouth, his delicious mouth, his smoky and minty tongue -

"Is that what you think?" he muttered teasingly under his breath, lowering his forehead to mine. His mouth was open, so close to mine, just begging to be kissed, and I closed my eyes and leaned in...

Only to feel him pull away with a taunting chuckle. I opened my eyes to glare at him, but he was already so close again, forcing every thought out of my head except of those fiery eyes, filled with what I thought to be some form of excitement.

But they grew sad as they gazed into mine.

"No," he said quietly. "No, because I'm so much older than you, I'm not right for you. I shouldn't have done this. Goddamn-"

He broke away from me and walked away from the building, leaving me dazed and flustered. "Damn it," he grumbled to himself, fingering the cigarette in anger.

I stared after him, feeling the determination welling up.

"No," I said right back. "No, Snake, stop. I'm not letting you walk away from this." He glanced at me, but I couldn't read his expression. A little cautiously, I carried on, becoming increasingly aware of my recklessness. "I don't care about your age. I don't care about what you've done. I don't care about any of that." His eyes looked into mine, searching for something I could see he'd never found. "I..." I faltered for a second, his eyes never leaving me as I stood in front of him. "I care about you."

For a second he looked baffled, and in the next, he looked disappointed.  
"Zelda," he began with a sigh, avoiding my rebuttal, "you don't know me."

I clenched my jaw, mumbling _damn you are moody_ under my breath. I didn't think he'd caught it, but the satirical, knowing look on his face proved me wrong. I ignored it and continued on. "Maybe not. Not that well. You won't give me a damn chance!" I had to hold back from stamping my foot, but the challenge was there, and he knew it.

I could see him bristling. "Why would I?" he spit out. "Why would I give you a fucking chance? What does it matter? We can't be together!"

His words pushed a needle into me, but I wouldn't allow it to hurt me. "Why not? Why do you push everyone away?"

He increased the space between us, fingers moving on the cigarette frantically, the only part of him exposed. "Because of the things I've seen, the things I've done, fuck, Zelda, the things I've done..."

Suddenly he looked so broken, standing where he was, eyes clouding with shame. "The things I've done, Zelda," he repeated, taking a step toward me carefully, as though I would flinch. "Someone as pure as you...I can't, on what conscious I have left, allow someone as innocent and perfect and young as you to be ruined by someone like me."

I was transfixed by the pain in his voice, the agony in his expression. He seemed to be crumbling in on himself. It all rushed to meet me then, and I realized that despite what he thought, what he needed was someone like me.

I walked slowly over to him, feeling the weight of the decision I was about to make. But I couldn't bear to see him in such pain, couldn't bear to see this man I barely knew, yet knew so well.

"Snake," I whispered, voice almost lost in the wind. He turned his head up to look at me, face stoic, but his eyes were helpless. Despairing. Alone.

"I'm not as pure as you might think," I went on, feeling as though I was finally revealing a truth I had been keeping behind lock and key, even from myself. "I know what the world is like. I'm tired of pretending I'm as perfect as everyone thinks I am."

I was stripping myself in front of him, presenting the naked truth of the countenance of a princess, feeling vulnerable and so open, so afraid of how he would react. No one had ever seen me like this before.

"You're right," I told him, searching the sky for some sort sign, some sort of proof that this was right. But it was pounding along with my heart, and that was all the proof I needed. "You're right. I don't know you. I don't know what you've done. But Snake..." He didn't look up, hand kneading his temples, "I want to know you."

I heard him swallow hard, then his eyes were exploring mine, peering as far down as they could, leaving me breathless. I could barely find the words to say, and they came so slowly into my head.

"I...I know that...I mean...I can't even talk. I just mean, Snake..." He waited patiently for me to finish, eyes glimmering with what looked like hope, "I don't care what you've done. And I...I want...to help, I guess. Not like, I don't know, I mean, I just want you to be able to see who you really are, not the things you've done. I want to know everything and I want to get rid of this horrible facade of being the perfect person, I want to truly understand what the world is like, I want to know -"

A soft touch on my lips shut up my inane ramblings, effectively silencing the stream of thoughts bombarding my brain. All I could feel was his mouth, his hand placed gently on my waist. He seemed to touch me as delicately as a porcelain doll, and he kissed me slowly, tenderly, as though cherishing the moment. I had never been kissed so deeply, so dearly, and it sent a feeling through me I didn't recognize or want to think about, because it was so unlike him, so unlike the hungry, furious, lusty kisses from earlier, and I couldn't be bothered to try to untangle yet another new emotional development from this little melodrama.

He pulled away all too soon though, and then his eyes were there, in front of mine, and his large hand was holding mine, and then his fingers were interlaced in mine. I felt heat rushing to my face, unsure where to go from here, what to do, what he was going to say. If he was going to accept my offer, if he was going to turn me down with an apologetic kiss. I waited, unconsciously squeezing his hand tightly, eyes searching his face worriedly.  
His forehead was still pressed against mine, and that soft, genuine smile broke through, lighting up his rough features, illuminating the beauty of his face.

"I want to know, too," he said simply, then leaned down to kiss my returning smile.

A/N: Hope the sexual content wasn't too much for you readers (who am I kidding, this is fanfiction), but I really wanted to be able to develop a mature, sexual story without letting it come off cheesy and juvenile. So I hope I've done that. Please remember to review, I really really really appreciate it! It took me three hours to write this, and like, three minutes for you to review. It means a lot to me. Thank you so much!


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